Differences
by Scribbler
Summary: [one shot] Jounouchi and Honda learn that 'best friends forever' is a very flexible promise. [Implied smidge of JounouchiMai]


**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Never were.

**A/N:** Owes its existence to the short story _Green_ by Nick Earls. Also has a line from Something Positive (somethingpositive dot net), though I've lost the link to the actual strip; and the monkey idea is ripped directly from a piece of fanart by LeDiz (lediz dot deviantart dot com slash gallery slash).

**Continuity: **Post-series. No spoilers.

**Feedback: **As always, yes please!

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_**Differences**_

© Scribbler, 2006.

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By the time they leave high school, Jounouchi and Honda have already developed lasting differences. Nothing so glamorous as the roles each of them takes in saving the world (gung-ho hands-on versus gung-ho overlooked), but just as significant.

They've been together since elementary school, each watching the other's back, the one they turn to in a crisis. When Jounouchi needed a place to stay to escape his father, Honda just opened the front door wide enough for him to pass through. When Honda got his first crush Jounouchi teased him mercilessly; but after they'd finished punching each other he tore a page from the back of his history book, so they could both work on a letter to let her know how Honda felt. They were best friends before Yuugi even appeared in their lives, and pinkie-swore a long time ago that it'd always be that way.

And they _are_ still friends, but things are different now. They aren't adults, but they're adult-esque. Honda isn't the blushing simpleton of old; neither is Jounouchi the little terror that tied tin cans to cats' tails and blocked up Mrs. Shobu's tailpipe with a rock so he could _prove _to Honda that it sounded like a volcano erupting when it backfired. They've grown up – maybe. Sort of. They're wiser, at least. Preventing the odd apocalypse will do that to a guy. But shared experiences are shared experiences, right?

By the time they leave their teens, the lasting differences have become more obvious.

Honda goes to college – still in Domino, since his parents can't afford for him to live anywhere else as well as pay his fees. Jounouchi works his way through a series of unskilled jobs in between Duel Monsters competitions, using what he earns to rent a place in municipal Domino, away from his dad's bloodshot scowl. Honda and Yuugi still go to every event, and even Anzu comes home from America once in a while. Shizuka comes when she can, but she's studying hard and Jounouchi can't in all conscience make her break from her schoolwork – her chance at a better life than he has – just to feed his ego. It still feels good, looking down from the duelling fields and seeing the faces of his two best buds, cheering him on – kind of reaffirming, even. Yuugi's friendship has never been in question, and even though they don't see each other every day anymore, Honda still has his back.

Honda has his back off the field, too. He invites Jounouchi to parties thrown by his college pals, shrugging off Jounouchi's claims that they move in different circles.

"You're too mopey these days, man," he says. "Even Yuugi's happier than you. You're not allowed to be this mopey. I'm gonna get a ray of sunshine into you if I have to ram it into you using a catheter."

So Jounouchi goes to Honda's parties, and goes out clubbing with Honda and his college pals. Yuugi doesn't come with them. He seems to understand that it's something of a bonding experience for the two of them – like noogies, booger-eating contests and surprise wedgie attacks used to be in junior high.

Well, _mostly_ in junior high.

The college kids Honda hangs with are an okay bunch. Nobody rags on Jounouchi for just scraping through high school, and most of the time they welcome his teetotal self as their designated driver. Some of them are minted, too. He's driven some sweet motors since he met them – wheels he'd never have gotten his hands on otherwise. The best was that Porsche belonging to some physics dude, spoiled only by the guy throwing up in the foot-well all over Jounouchi's good shoes. He has only two pairs of shoes – sneakers and good. Honda promises to make the guy pay for a new pair, but Jounouchi waves it off, and then shoves his inflamed pride in a box to trawl the thrift stores for a holdover until payday.

It's weird, being out with Honda these days. He thrives at college, even though he doesn't come top in any class. He excels in what counts, he says, and Jounouchi can't help but agree. Honda juggles so many girls he's nearly juggling all of them. He juggles so many girls that they all know. They all know and they don't care. It's the price to pay, if it's a price at all. Honda Hiroto has magic in his hands, the poise of matador, and the patter of a witless, irresistible charm. He listens when they talk and never lets them catch him looking at their boobs. You'd never know he used to be so scared of asking girls out he almost peed his pants and had to become a friggin' robot monkey to get close to cleavage.

Jounouchi juggles girls the way possums juggle Ford Cortinas. He's roadkill out there, bitumen pâté – seriously unsought-after. He's loud, but too loutish for intellectual college girls; witless without the irresistible charm; little to no fashion sense (he can't pull of the chic part of 'shabby chic'). He lurks without impact on the periphery of nights out, a perpetual outsider. He loiters rakishly just outside the nimbus of college people, like some lame trap – a trap baited with turd, and he's not catching much. You'd never know he's been the Japanese Duel Monsters Champion since Yuugi 'retired'.

Honda makes entrances. Jounouchi turns up. When Honda is the last to leave, Jounouchi is still there but nobody's noticed. Honda gyrates on the dance floor, a pointy-haired planet with attractive orbiting moons. Jounouchi dances like he's made of Lego – like he's a glued-up Airfix model of something that dances. Better still, he doesn't dance. Instead he retreats to the edge of the floor, like a shadow in bad clothes, until someone stumbles up and asks if he'll drive them home.

The only dance he ever really mastered was the Victory Dance, and they still round off 'good nights' and successful Duel Monsters Tournaments with it. Those times he doesn't care how dopey he looks, but he finds he's more easily embarrassed in front of Honda's college pals. It's dumb, and he doesn't tell Honda about it. That'd be too sissy. Instead he does his best, and nods enthusiastically when Honda asks if he's enjoying himself. Because he is. Honest.

He's pleased his best buddy is a hit with the ladies. Apart from anything else, it means Honda doesn't moon over Shizuka anymore, and that's just F-I-N-E _fine_ with Jounouchi. And yet …

And yet.

And yet, Jounouchi is a little jealous of his best friend. They were always equal in their incompetence. Teachers lined them up, one two, for each dressing down. Honda could throw a great right hook, but it didn't mean squat until Jounouchi finished off the job with his trademark left uppercut.

Now he shadow-boxes, and dreams of pretty girls treating him the way they treat Honda. In Jounouchi's dreams he's a smooth-talking love machine. He's witty, successful, charismatic – everything any one of those college girls could want in a date. He treats them kindly, not having to think about what to say or how to stand so he doesn't miss the bar and fall over backwards when he tries to lean on it. And unlike Honda, Jounouchi would be happy with just one.

"You okay, man?" Honda extracts himself from the crowd and peers at his best friend, hair damp with sweat and forehead shiny under the bright lights of the latest nightclub.

"Sure," Jounouchi bellows, because it's the kind of place where decibels matter more than wit. He knocks back his soda like it's beer, like his father used to and probably still does. The thought almost makes him choke. Being anything like his father is Jounouchi's private nightmare, and the reason he never drinks. He can't risk falling into that snare. "Great music."

"You think so?" Honda pulls a face. It's so loud it feels like they're trapped in a giant heart, but the atmosphere is great and the drinks are cheap, and the bar staff aren't too hot on checking ID. He stays by Jounouchi's side a while longer, tapping his feet. His good shoes have a patina that surpasses Jounouchi's. He obviously wants to get back to the floor, but stays with his best friend.

Eventually, though, Honda edges back onto the dance floor, gesturing for Jounouchi to follow him. There are a couple of girls watching, art students with long, blonde feathery hair and eyes ringed in kohl. One for each of them, even though they're both watching Honda like hungry dogs outside an abattoir.

Jounouchi shakes his head, sips his drink, and watches his best friend be absorbed into the mass of bodies. The taller of the two art students slips from her stool and wends her way through the crowd towards him. She moves like a predator. Jounouchi watches her, catches her eye, doesn't respond when she smiles and shows perfectly even white teeth. He thinks about rising and going onto the dance floor himself, but his muscles refuse, so instead he stays exactly where he is and broods over the one that got away.

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Fin.

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End file.
